


A Very Victorian Story of Two Girls in Love

by I_Amazon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lady Lexa, Plot Twists, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, tomboy Clarke, very little angst in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Amazon/pseuds/I_Amazon
Summary: Victorian AU - Lexa is the niece of the wealthiest bachelor in their quiet English town. Her suitor's cousin, Clarke, comes visiting for a month after she returned from the continent. They meet and they start gravitating towards each other although neither of them can put a label to their feelings. Very slow burn. Like, Victorian era slow.There are going to be other pairings and other characters introduced later on.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Finn Collins/Lexa courting
Comments: 84
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So first off, YES, I'm serious, no I haven't lost my mind, Finn is trying to woo Lexa in this one. Don't judge me, I needed a moderately enthusiastic suitor for Lexa for... reasons. Bear with me, you'll see eventually. Don't worry, there won't be any icky sex between them. :)
> 
> And a little confession to make:  
> I have...a tendency to write just mindless sex or very little plot for the sake of ending up our girls in bed. So this year I decided to challenge myself with this story. It will be my first try at slow burn so I would greatly appreciate your support as I embark on this journey? I want do it properly and make it reeeeeeal slow. I promise you will be rewarded at the end (hence the no rating for now).
> 
> I'm also putting heaps and mountains of research into getting all the Victorian details right. Again, I am trying my hand at it for the first time. I've been poring over Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household management and Lady Constance Howard's "Etiquette" among others to make sure that nothing is amiss. I'm going into a LOT of detail here. Like, did you know there was a whole CODE LANGUAGE for flirting with the way you dropped your gloves?? Hell yes, that is happening! Our ladies are really going to explore their love for one another the old fashioned way.
> 
> Note about the narrator: I'm also experimenting with writing techniques here. Since this is Victorian not everyone is going to be on a first name basis with everyone and rules keep shifting and changing according to level of intimacy. So it's like this: The narration reveals whose point of view the given paragraph is taking. e.g. when you see things from Lexa's point of view in chapter 1 she is going to call Finn Mr. Collins because their courtship has not developed to that level of intimacy yet. She'll also call Clarke Miss Griffin because of social norms (they just met) but will eventually move to Clarke in later chapters because it's permitted between established friends. But if in the next paragraph you see Finn being referred to as Finn you can be sure that is either from his point of view or Clarke's because they get to be on first name basis due to being cousins.
> 
> And last but not least: Resolving Tensions has not been forgotten, I just hadn't been in the mood to write smut. But I'll likely update between chapters of this one.

“Miss Woods?” a familiar female voice called from the door, alerting Lexa to the presence of Annie, one of her uncle's housemaids. “Miss, Mr Collins has arrived, he has been shown to the smoking room until you are ready. It is the time of day when Sir Gustus enjoys a cigar there as well.” Annie said, her tone attempting to convey additional meaning to the seemingly innocent sentence.

Lexa allowed a sigh to quietly escape her lips, her face still turned towards the window. She knew Annie meant well, but couldn't help her annoyance. The unsuspecting girl was trying to be helpful, implying that perhaps it would be prudent to not give her uncle a great deal of time alone with her caller – her prospective suitor, Lexa shuddered at the thought – lest he scare the poor man away. If Lexa was being honest, that is exactly what a part of her hoped Uncle Gustus would do. While this Mr. Collins was a considerably gentler soul than her previous suitors seemed to be, she was far from enthusiastic. She tolerated his attention out of necessity. She was vaguely aware of how she would be expected to marry sooner than later.

The idea of marriage sickened Lexa, but she had not yet found the correct words to express exactly why. It was not necessarily the idea of marriage that she abhorred, nor even the idea of children. But the idea of being in close proximity to any man for any length of period was so disagreeable to her that she invariably felt her stomach upset with anxiety.

Having had the habit of sneaking around the house since she was a small child she once stumbled upon a maid and a footman in the hayloft of the stables, tangled in what to her childish mind at the time appeared to be a wrestling match. Lexa smiled with amusement as she remembered that particular childhood experience, how those few short minutes came to influence her future so intricately.

She remembered her confusion and vague knowledge that she had seen something secret, something of which knowledge ought not be shared lightly. She conceived as much from the hushed noises they made, or how they'd freeze for a moment like startled animals, their eyes widening in panic at the smallest noises coming from below. Lexa waited patiently for them to finish their business and leave, all the while staring at them with a disgusted sort of curiosity.

“Miss Woods?” The voice jarred Lexa from her musings again and finally she turned around to acknowledge Annie.

“Yes, thank you, Annie. I shall be ready momentarily.” Lexa replied in a tone that could not be described as delicate. She felt moody and had little patience for society that day. “I dare say Mr. Collins can survive a few minutes in the company of my Uncle. If he is in any way serious about his design he ought to for if he were to succeed they would be seeing a great deal more of each other.”

As the housemaid submissively acknowledged her dismissal and ducked out of the room Lexa slowly stood from the little alcove she enjoyed sitting in. The view to the spacious park of her Uncle's estate was beautiful from that window. _'Hmpf... no doubt a great majority of my...suitors have been more interested in the hopes of claiming that spacious park than in me.'_ Lexa thought dejectedly.

As her hands meticulously went over each of her buttons and her eyes roamed her garments in the mirror to ensure that her attire was as respectable as anyone would expect, revealing nothing and encouraging even less, her mind wandered to her recollections of the past again. How she mulled over her newly gained insight for weeks before she decided that the safest approach would be to glean more information from the very people she had spied upon.

Her courage steeled by the memory of how efficient she had been in securing such a pool of information for herself at the tender age of ten, Lexa turned on her heels and marched downstairs. _'Surely if I could blackmail a housemaid into discussing her most private activities with me I can survive yet another dreadfully dull outing with this overly-polite man-child.'_

* * *

“Ah, there she is now.” Uncle Gustus said gruffly. His beard barely made it possible to see his lips move, which, whenever he spoke, made him look like a mountain had come alive. He was unusually tall, even for a man and his shoulders were broad. Granted, some of his bulk started turning soft with age, most noticeably around his belly which necessitated more frequent visits to the tailor, but he was still an imposing sight to behold. _'Particularly when someone was unfortunate enough to mention sports around him and was then obliged to listen to him ramble about his chosen sport “the noble old sport of boxing”'_. Lexa thought amusedly as she noticed a relieved glint in her caller's eye. That could only mean that Uncle Gustus had once again come off as threatening either by design or a happy coincidence.

“Miss Woods!” Mr. Collins greeted enthusiastically. “At your service.” He bowed politely. “As I was just describing the matter to your Uncle, I deeply regret to inform you so late, but if you are agreeable I would like to propose a change of plans.”

Lexa's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the word 'propose' but she managed to school her features. Relief flooded her upon the next words for multiple reasons. _'Oh, does that mean I do not have to go...touring the countryside with you....? Again.'_ Lexa thought, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And what is your alternate suggestion?” Lexa asked in a measured tone. She chanced a glance at her Uncle to gauge his reaction. Judging from how nervous the usually politely smooth man was she was either going to love or hate the idea. As much as she doted on her uncle, whenever he disapproved of something it was always a toss up between the two for Lexa.

“My... my Aunt Abigail has a daughter from her first marriage, Miss Griffin, who I am told arrived last evening and is to stay for a month, visiting. My Aunt obliged me to impress upon you the gratitude she would feel if you were to take her under your wings and show her around society.” Mr. Collins stumbled over his words at first but he swiftly gained back his confidence. It would seem that her mere presence was enough to distract him from her Uncle's often ominous presence.

_'Ah... babysitting. What a wonderful change of plans.'_ Lexa thought dryly, fighting to keep her eyes from rolling.

“I understand that you have some...experience in introducing younger ladies to society” Mr. Collins pressed on, vaguely aware that the woman he so desired to court did not seem to be as enthusiastic as he hoped she would be.

_'You could say that... the old hags in the area are constantly jostling and elbowing to get a chance to press their daughters and nieces on me.'_ Lexa thought with some irk but have not yet said anything. She raised an eyebrow as she gently, almost imperceptibly inclined her head to the right. That was all the encouragement she could muster at that moment. She had no idea why but the very idea of chaperoning pretty young women was both exciting and bothersome at the same time. Or rather, usually in that order. Just as she realized that she got caught up in her own thoughts instead of listening to Mr. Collins ramble something caught her attention.

“I'm sorry, come again, please?” Lexa asked, more politely than she had been to anyone all day.

“Um, I said that while I am told that my cousin grew up to be a rather unusual woman she at least has the benefit of being approximately your age.” Mr. Collins repeated the essence of what he had been explaining.

“I see. Very well. I consent, and will happily make the acquaintance of your Miss Griffin.” Lexa replied in a measured tone that was not at all indicative of the sudden surge of excitement she felt blossoming inside her chest. She found she had so little in common with the young women of her age that were available for companionship in the area that she struggled to balance avoiding them as much as possible and tolerating them for the sake contact with her peers.

* * *

When they were finally securely perched in Mr. Collins' hansom and the horse pulling it settled into a comfortable trot on the flagstones of the pathway leading to main gate of Woodfield Manor, family seat of the Woods for several generations, Lexa noted that the man sitting to her right visibly relaxed.

“You seem to be relieved to be out of the house, Mr. Collins.” Lexa teased good-naturedly. Her spirits had significantly improved at the prospect of making the acquaintance of a young woman her age. The description that she was an unusual woman only served to enhance her excitement as the women typically described as usual were dreadfully dull in her opinion. Although it was implied that she was doing a favour in calling on this unknown woman she would consider herself the fortunate one if this mysterious newcomer proved to be an agreeable companion.

“Well” Mr. Collins replied, clearing his throat. “I do enjoy the fresh air a great deal more than being stuck inside a house on such a sunny morning.”

Lexa levelled him with a knowing look, before turning her gaze back on the road ahead of them. “Yes. I imagine so. And the fact that my Uncle has the habit of threatening young men who show enough interest in me has nothing to do with it?” Her tone remained teasing, already knowing the answer. She chanced a sideways glance and spotted how Mr. Collins' eyes grew wider.

“I...of course your Uncle is an impeccable gentleman. He was nothing but obliging.” He stammered in surprise.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Collins. There's no need for falsehoods like that. I am perfectly aware of my Uncle's protective nature. I believe the reason why Mr. Edwards so hastily departed last summer was because my Uncle told him that if he so much as looked at me the wrong way he would slit his throat.” Lexa replied with a cheeky grin, knowing full well what effect such words from her mouth would have on the quickly paling man sitting next to her.

“Your Uncle seems to be a man of steady habits.” Mr. Collins said politely. “Including his choice of words.” He muttered the last few words which confirmed to Lexa that her Uncle had indeed deemed him a serious enough suitor to threaten him. She decided to put the thought out of her mind for the time being, her mind much to concentrated on her imminent acquaintance with one Miss Griffin.

* * *

  
  
“Mr. Collins.” Lexa said somewhat sharply in surprise. “Am I to understand that you have no idea whatsoever about the character of the lady you are introducing me to?” When she started asking questions in the hopes of gleaning some information that would put her at an advantage she was surprised to hear that Mr. Collins had not so much as laid eyes on the woman for the past ten years.

“I am afraid that is the case, Miss Woods. My Aunt relayed to me that Miss Griffin had been sent to a boarding school for talented young women and she had just returned from the continent.” Mr. Collins answered sheepishly. “But from what I remember of our childhood she was an agreeable enough young girl, although a bit headstrong.”

Lexa remained silent for the duration of the remaining ride, the slightest hint of apprehension now mixing with her previous elation and excitement. _'Boarding school for talented women? I wonder what her talent might be...and God, I hope her company will be at least a little more agreeable than that of the Fields sisters.'_

* * *

“FINN! It's about time you showed your....” Miss Griffin burst into the room unceremoniously, gaily yelling her greetings from afar only to trail abruptly to a halt when she realized that Mr. Collins was not without company. “Oh. Apologies.” She mumbled awkwardly as her feet carried her further into the room.

Lexa's eyes widened in a mixture of emotions she had a hard time identifying. Surprise almost bordering on shock certainly, for Miss Griffin, or so she presumed the woman must be, appeared to be dressed from the waist up in proper riding habits but instead of a petticoat she wore riding breeches. But there was also a hint of amusement at the woman's sudden shyness. It was a pleasant contrast to the boldness she displayed upon entry. She could also detect an instant appreciation as well. The light blush that now covered the blonde woman's cheeks made her appear very agreeable to Lexa.

“Good morning, Miss...” Clarke said, regaining quite a bit of her boldness and then glanced at Mr. Collins expectantly. She knew that etiquette would have expected her to stay mum until her cousin finally regained his senses and made proper introductions but she had already made a fool of herself anyway. That and she also did not care particularly much about etiquette anyway. The only reason she even pretended to adhere to it somewhat was because she had no way of knowing how much the lovely brunette staring at her with wide green eyes was stickler to it. She vaguely felt surprised at herself for caring so much about the opinion of a stranger but she decided to file that away for now. She would have plenty of time to examine it later if it was even a thing after they have made each other's acquaintance.

“Oh. Yes. Apologies.” Mr. Collins said, clearing his throat. “Miss Griffin. Miss Woods.”

“Very happy to make your acquaintance” Lexa said, somewhat formally and immediately stuck out her hand for a handshake. She knew that it was not obligatory yet she felt compelled. The way Mr. Collins made the introductions signalled to Lexa that he deemed her to have a higher rank in society, therefore it was her decision to offer a handshake as a gesture of friendliness and goodwill. And as she stared into a pair of incredibly blue eyes she most certainly felt the need to express just that.

“Likewise, Miss Woods, likewise.” Clarke could feel herself blushing from the unexpected gesture and she immediately accepted Miss Woods' hand, shaking it gently but earnestly. She felt a sudden spark of despise against society's expectations to wear gloves whenever out in public but it was extinguished almost immediately. Miss Woods' appreciative green eyes made her forget about just about anything else. Although the handshake was, to all outsider accounts, appropriate in length and enthusiasm it left both women more emotionally charged than they could explain.

“Miss Griffin” Mr. Collins addressed his cousin courteously. “It has been quite some time. You look lovely. I take it the continent agreed with you?” He asked politely.

“Oh, come now, Finn. We are family. You do not need to call me miss anything.” Miss Griffin replied almost instantaneously, lending more force to her opinion with a dramatic roll of of her eye. Lexa had to admit that Miss Griffin indeed seemed to be an unusual woman. _'Her... uniqueness is most certainly a welcome one though.'_

“It was only polite of me not to assume, Clarke.” Mr. Collins said with much more familiarity and warmth. The blonde huffed by way of reply and concentrated her attention on the brunette who watched their interaction with apparent interest.

“My apologies, Miss Woods, if I may seem forward” Miss Griffin addressed Lexa, suddenly itching to secure the woman's company for the foreseeable future “but I was just preparing to ride out. I understand you did not dress appropriately for such an excursion but would you be agreeable to driving around the countryside in a carriage instead?” She asked politely.

Lexa had a hard time keeping the smirk off her face as she briefly pondered the fact that the very same proposition would have left her bored out of her wits a few hours ago only to become her greatest desire just now.

“I'd be more than agreeable, Miss Griffin” She answered with a smile. If Miss Griffin's toothy grin was any indication, Lexa would have wagered a great deal that her eyes were likely shining playfully despite her best efforts to appear cool and collected. Something in Miss Griffin's dualistic behaviour caught Lexa's interest. One minute she strived to be polite, almost as if seeking approval, and the next she let slip a burst of energy more commonly expected of rowdy school boys than proper ladies. _'And my god, how boring proper ladies were...'_


	2. Chapter 2

As Lexa expected, driving around the countryside turned out to be a considerably more entertaining outing now that Miss Griffin was present to give her a fresh perspective on all the greenery she knew much too well.

They were now comfortably sat in the back seat of a four wheeler, facing forward. In the absence of a driver, owing to Mrs. Collins' call on one of her close friends, Mr. Collins had been courteous enough to offer to drive the carriage for them. Lexa did not fail to notice a spark of defiance in Miss Griffin's eye upon first suggestion and she almost expected the woman to actually voice her displeasure. However, Miss Griffin's engaging blue eyes transformed almost instantaneously and she bowed in acceptance. For a moment the flash of her icy pale eyes appeared to Lexa as if Miss Griffin was conceding some sort of privilege.

“Alas, I am quite fond of horses and handling them, for a moment I was loathe to give up the opportunity.” Clarke explained her behaviour somewhat sheepishly. She felt green eyes on her almost constantly as if Miss Woods were analysing her and she felt a great desire to prove herself. To what end she had no notion but she felt it was quite necessary. “But of course Finn's generosity will allow me to indulge in the beauties the area has to offer.” She gave Miss Woods a warm smile, her eyes twinkling, as she explained her sudden change of heart. “And in the mean time we can better acquaint ourselves?”

“By all means.” Lexa replied without thinking much about it. She was quite taken with the young woman she just met. She was halfway up the carriage steps when she paused, wondering about the blonde woman's words. They seemed so innocent coming from her. Yet, had Mr. Collins said same thing she probably would have taken offence, assuming that he was being impolitely bold and attempting to take to undue liberties with her.  _ 'How odd words are, that they should have so vastly different meaning merely because they had been uttered by different sexes.'  _ The idea that men and women could mean such words in similar ways was quite inconceivable to Lexa, therefore she put the matter wholly out of her mind as she settled comfortably in the plush seat of the carriage. She arranged the many layers and folds of her dress neatly around herself as Miss Griffin sat down beside her, legs comfortably crossed at the knees, taking care to raise the leg that would be facing away from her dress. 

***  


“Finn, do you remember that secret place we once snuck off to when we were children?” Clarke asked when they stopped at a place that seemed suitable for a picnic. Childhood memories were flooding her mind and she longed to explore her old haunts. She stole a sideways glance at Miss Woods who was busy unfolding the blanket they had brought with them while she retrieved one of the picnic baskets from the storage space at the back of the carriage. 

Her cousin had been tending to the horse when Clarke snapped him out of his own thoughts. He gave her a quizzical look as he raked his memories. “Vaguely” Finn said finally, a frown appearing between his eyebrows. “But I believe it is some distance away from here.” He said confidently as he hauled the other basket out of the trunk.

_ 'Hmpf... some distance away...it would only be a short walk from the river not far away...'  _ Clarke thought with some amusement, allowing a smirk to form on her lips.

“I also do not think that Miss Woods is appropriately dressed for such an excursion.” He added with some disapproval in his tone, almost as if he was displeased that his cousin would even bring up that memory. “Assuming that she would even be interested...” The finality of his tone implied that he had put the matter wholly out of question on authority of having known Miss Woods the longest of the two of them. 

_ 'Oh cousin....you are still an insufferable stickler for propriety I see....'  _ Clarke thought sourly, recalling some less than pleasant memories from their childhood. She followed Finn silently towards Miss Woods whom they found comfortably sat on the blanket, her face turned slightly upwards to enjoy the warm rays of the sun hitting her skin.

“Oh I do hope the maid packed some of Samuel's delightful cheesecakes, I remember having been so fond of them whenever I visited” Clarke said excitedly as they started unpacking the baskets the kitchen maid had hastily prepared for them upon request. 

To everyone's delight there were strips of cold roast beef, pieces of lamb, half a roast fowl, half a veal-and-ham pie, some lettuce and cucumbers on the side and even a small lobster. Clarke cringed her nose at the ugly looking red fruit of the sea but a sideways stolen glance in Miss Woods' direction told her that her new acquaintance was of a contrary opinion. She was sure she saw her eyes flash in delight when she saw the beast emerge from the basket. Clarke made sure that she placed it between Miss Woods and Finn, herself not caring much for seafood. 

Further items were unpacked from stewed fruit to pastry biscuits, a small portion of cold plum pudding, some fresh fruits, various cheeses, breads and rolls, some butter and finally three pieces of cheesecake. Clarke clapped her hands once with enthusiasm and barely suppressed the noise of delight that threatened to spill from her lips. It had been years since she last attended a proper English picnic. The French altogether had very different ideas of a picnic.  _ 'Not that those were bad...just so vastly different.' _

When Clarke glanced at both of her companions she saw a restrained polite interest in Miss Woods' surveying eyes and a pleased smile spread across her cousins soft features. She had always found it remarkable how soft his jawline was, almost feminine. But what Finn's facial features lacked in angular masculinity he more than made up for with his presence and determination. Or so Clarke remembered from their childhood. 

Finn was the first to grab the large cutting knife and he proceeded to cut chunky bits of the roast fowl and a piece of the veal pie. He passed over the vegetables altogether and turned his attention to the ridiculous looking red lobster situated at his elbow. After cutting the beast open he scooped a healthy portion of its belly onto his plate. After some hesitation his hand moved in the direction of the sea beast again and Clarke could not help but intervene. Although had she been cross-questioned she could not have immediately explained her reasoning.

“Cousin, surely you are not going to pass over Samuel's roast beef?” Clarke said, attempting to control the earnestness in her voice as she thrust the plate of beef stripes upon his person. “Here. I was served it yesterday, it is quite wonderful.” When she chanced a glance in Miss Woods' direction she saw the brunette had one of her eyebrows cocked, giving her a silent look before modestly looking away. 

Clarke suddenly felt embarrassed at her actions and busied herself with her own plate, opting to secure one of the cheesecakes for herself early on. Afterwards, luncheon was a quiet affair. They made some pleasant remarks, praising the Collins' chef for his brilliant cooking skills. When it appeared that eating was drawing to a close the blonde spied that Miss Woods' had not touched her portion of the cheesecake but refrained from commenting, only sparing it a brief longing glance. 

“Miss Griffin, you were so quick to praise the cheesecake, would you like the last piece?” Lexa asked, her voice laced with an innocent tone. “I wanted a taste after your fond recommendation but I dare say I overindulged on the lobster and plum pudding.” 

Clarke looked at her in surprise for a moment but wrote it off as a happy coincidence and gladly accepted the offering

***  
  
“Have we brought any cards with us?” Finn asked after he smoked his obligatory post-meal pipe. He was comfortably stretched along the blanket, his head resting near Miss Woods' ankles but taking care not to impose on her personal space. “We could play a few rounds of Snap if you are agreeable?” He asked, hope clearly written across his features. 

_ 'Ah, snap...yes, it was one of his favourite pastimes growing up.'  _ Clarke remembered as she rummaged in the picnic basket to see if they were provided for with entertainment. To everyone's pleasure they were and they passed the next few hours playing amicably.

  
  


***

  
When it grew cold enough that Miss Woods was forced to adjust the shawl across her shoulders to fend off the cooling air Clarke was about to suggest perhaps packing up. She turned towards her cousin only to see him glancing in Miss Woods' direction as well and his eyes filled with recognition and compassion. He spoke up before she had the chance, coming to the same conclusion.  _ 'Well...he may have been an oaf at luncheon but at least he is not neglecting his duty to care for his guest in other ways.' _

  
  


Once they were all seated in the carriage Clarke suggested that Miss Woods might like to wrap the blanket around her shoulders as well, seeing how her shawl would likely not be protection enough against the wind of the carriage. When Miss Woods asked if she would like to share the blanket she politely declined, assuring her that her riding habit was more than well equipped to fend of the chill of the air. 

  
  


They were well over halfway home when Lexa remembered something and scooted closer on the bench to be able to whisper into Miss Griffin's ear. “Thank you, Miss Griffin, for your kind intervention during luncheon. I am fairly sure Mr. Collins meant no harm but it was very considerate of you to save some of the lobster for me. I was especially grateful that you managed it without embarrassing the poor soul.” Lexa felt quite touched at her new friend's attentiveness and a surge of fondness overcame her. 

  
  


“You are quite welcome, Miss Woods. It was mere chance that I spotted your look of delight when I took it out of the basket and wanted to make sure you were not disappointed. My cousin must have missed your excitement. But you have more than repaid my kindness when you offered me your cheesecake.” Clarke offered Miss Woods an explanation that would excuse her cousin as well. 

  
  


After their exchange the ride home was a quiet affair and there was not much time for pleasantries for Finn was adamant that he would take Miss Woods home himself after he stopped by the gate to drop Clarke off. Knowing when she was being dismissed Clarke obliged and dismounted the carriage, somewhat saddened by the end of the pleasant outing. Her sullen mood was somewhat alleviated when Miss Woods quickly presented her with a visiting card and impressed upon Clarke her desire for their continued friendship, entreating her to visit quite soon at Woodfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As huge as that picnic sounds I've actually done my research on it, that is what a Victorian picnic looked like :) Lobster included!
> 
> What do you think so far? Please leave your thoughts, encouragement, concrit, love, offerings of caffeine etc in the comment section :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I use an odd term I think needs explaining i'll mark it and explain in the end notes section.

Clarke was in a sour mood the next day when she realized that it was a Sunday. As much as she hated the constraints social norms attempted to impress upon her person, there were some she could simply not avoid adhering to. She may get away with wearing suits on occasion, largely owing to her family's status in society or she might not be looked down on for indulging in hobbies largely considered manly because of her proficiency in certain feminine accomplishments but it was an infallible certainty that even she must observe the norms of paying visits.

It was an unspoken rule among the well-mannered folk of England that Sunday morning calls were strictly for the closest of friends. To visit someone with whom you were not on such intimate terms on a Sunday was, quite simply, not done. What more, it would have been considered rather barbaric. And as taken as she was with Miss Woods she was not presumptuous enough to assume that she fit that category as of yet. Therefore visiting the very next day was wholly out of question.

After ascertaining that her cousin was not available as he was entertaining his own friends Clarke decided that a hearty ride would help set her mind at ease. Almost instantly she thought of the secret hideout place close to where they had their picnic the other day and it was as good as decided. She would rediscover that secret of her childhood and if it was still in good condition she might even venture to show it to her new friend on a summer day.

* * *

Lexa had fared not much better that day. She had woken with a dreadful headache which made her anxious about being good company if Miss Griffin were to visit only to realize that a visit the very next day was quite hopeless. Miss Griffin seemed like she was well-versed in the riddles of society and surely she would not commit such a faux-pas as to visit on a Sunday. ' _Although after the various kindnesses she showed yesterday I dare say we shall be fast friends.'_  
  


* * *

_Monday_

  
  


Clarke had risen on Monday with decidedly lighter spirits than on the previous day. As soon as her eyes opened her mouth formed a smile. _'Today I get to see her again.'_ Lunch was a quiet affair at the Collins', consisting only of Clarke, her aunt and uncle and of course her cousin. Both her uncle and cousin showed marked interest in her years spent in France. Clarke had a right time attempting to avoid trickier questions, for her mother had strictly forbidden her from giving their relations an idea of what exactly she had been studying.

Mrs Griffin was, by temperament, a proud woman and she would not suffer society, nay even her own brother, knowing that her only daughter gallivanted around France, learning anatomy of all things. It was her husband, Mr. Griffin's overindulgence of their daughter's whims that lead to this situation and she was fair powerless to do much against it. Her only consolation was that at least her daughter had not neglected the accomplishments appropriate for her sex either and was remarkably talented at singing and drawing. When Clarke had finally returned from France with her dignity and purity intact Mrs Griffin felt as if she had finally let out the breath she had taken upon her daughter's departure several years ago.

When after lunch Clarke announced that she would be calling on Miss Woods who was gracious enough to not only have presented her with a visiting card but quite earnestly entreated her to visit _quite soon_ she was met with different reactions from each of her relations. Mrs. Collins's eyes shone with excitement, congratulating her on her new acquaintance, while Mr. Collins remained politely unimpressed, not much concerned with the goings on of the fairer side of society. It was Finn's reaction that surprised Clarke somewhat, because her cousin had shown decidedly more interest than he ought to have. His desire to accompany Clarke was, fortuitously, thwarted by Mrs. Collins who chided her son for being overeager. “Finn, please have a care for your poor old mother and refrain from acting like a half-hour gentleman*. You ought to know that calls and half-ceremonious visits by ladies are always conducted alone or very rarely with their daughters. It would look foolish and entirely inappropriate for you to visit at the same time.”

“But mother! They are hardly mere acquaintances. And do I need remind you that I have been courting Miss Woods for nearly half a year? And they had such a wonderful time together last week. I was fairly surprised when I found that Clarke had NOT been visiting yesterday.” Finn countered, honestly astonished at his mother's opinions and old-fashioned habits.

“Well you are quite the oaf, dear cousin, if you are not jesting!” Clarke exclaimed incredulously despite knowing that she had wanted to do exactly as Finn exprected.

“Nonsense! Have you not noted that they are not even on a first name basis yet?” Mrs. Collins continued in the same admonishing tone seemingly unaffected by the abuse her niece subjected her son to “Clearly Miss Woods is very favourable towards Clarke, having invited her most encouragingly, but she is not so improper as to rush into a friendship upon having met someone the first time! What are you thinking...”

It went on like that between mother and son for some minutes until Mr. Collins shifted uncomfortably in his chair and levelled his son with a glance that clearly told him that he should drop the subject. Whether because the bickering had worn down his nerves or because he was silently teaching his son to defer to well-bred women on questions of etiquette Clarke had no idea but she was glad she was afforded the good luck to visit Miss Woods alone.

After lunch she busied herself with her attire and toiletries, keen on making a good second impression. Painfully conscious that she would have to make a good _first_ impression on whatever relations Miss Woods may have if she were in any way hopeful of continuing their friendship she spent a considerably longer time staring at her dresses than she normally would have.

She realized much too late that she had failed to acquire information about Miss Woods' relations from Finn, something that would prove to be impossible now that he had been antagonized and thwarted at lunch. _'Well...Sir Gustus is a well-known fixture in the county so he's a given.'_ Clarke mused, not at all satisfied. Knowing facts were one thing but Finn could have given her an advantage.

At last she resolved not to despair and made a series of quick decisions. Detesting the idea of giving up her personal comfort and wearing a dress to merely impress her host she turned to trickery. She had a pair of well-tailored trousers fashioned in the Arabic style made of enough billowing material to pass as a dress upon superficial inspection. All she had to remember was not to run about in front of Sir Gustus, for then she would not be able to conceal that the material in fact hugged both of her legs individually. In a compromise, she did, however, decide to leave her cigarette case at home. She was not in the habit of smoking daily so she was sure she could forego another day. This was easy enough to concede for she had not yet smoked in front of Miss Woods either and was not entirely sure if she would approve. And to her constant surprise, she most certainly wanted, nay, almost needed Miss Woods' approval.

It was just after three in the afternoon when she left for Woodfield Manor in a cart. Not too late, for she hoped that she would be asked to stay beyond the politely expected half an hour but not to early either in order to avoid seeming overeager.

* * *

“Alexandra, my darling niece, what has your nerves in such disarray?” Sir Gustus asked with some concern after he noted that his niece had not been able to commit to any of her usual activities for any length of time. She seemed to start one thing only to drop it and start afresh at something else. It broke the tranquillity of the afternoon time they generally spent together.

“Disarray, Uncle Gustus?” Lexa asked back in a distracted manner as she glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room.

“Indeed, dear child. In the last half hour you have started up on the piano, only to abandon mid-sheet, claiming that the small lettering of the sheet was putting a strain on your eye.” Sir Gustus replied with an even tone. “Then you took to singing but after a single song you claimed your throat was in no condition to carry on. Finally you settled on embroidery but claimed that your fingers were too stiff today to carry on.” As he finished enumerating his observations he set his newspaper aside. “So, yes, I ask what has your nerves so rattled? Are we waiting for a guest that you keep glancing at the time?” He finally asked when he caught her glancing in the direction of the clock a third time. His eyes lit with mischief and settled on a knowing look when realization hit him.

 _'Oh lord, he thinks I'm anxious for Mr. Collins to arrive...'_ Lexa thought with despair. _'Why...why would he think that?'_ She finally sighed in defeat, knowing that nothing escaped her uncle's keen and observing eyes.

“Do you remember that I was introduced to Mr. Collins' cousin on Saturday?” She finally asked. Upon her uncle's nod of assent she said “Well, I have taken quite the shine to Miss Griffin, Uncle. I felt a connection with her unlike with most of my peers.” She admitted. “You know how lonely I get at times...” Lexa trailed off, not particularly keen to drag that topic into their current conversation.

Sir Gustus' eyes hardened and darkened as he focused his entire attention on what his niece was saying. The doctors had advised him to pay interest to and encourage her social interactions for she was prone to shut down emotionally which would put her at a decided disadvantage on the marriage market.

“I know, Lexa. I know. Ever since your poor mother...” He started but stopped himself abruptly. He was also advised to broach that particular topic as seldom as possible. “So this Miss Griffin is more agreeable to you? And you have invited her over for tea I presume?” He asked, assessing the bits of information his niece revealed to him.

Lexa noted her uncle's slip in mentioning her mother. She dearly wished to talk about her, learn more about her, learn her through her brother's eyes but as loving as her uncle was, he stalwartly refused to discuss her parents with her.

“Well, I didn't exactly invite her for tea per se. But I did entreat her to visit quite soon. Yesterday being a Sunday was not yet acceptable but I do hope she visits today. I should rather like to show her the lakes on the grounds if the weather permits.” She finally said the thoughts that had been on her mind all day.

Sir Gustus made a noise of approval upon hearing that his niece wanted to spend the day out in the open. That too had been advised by the plethora of medical men he consulted. He spared no cost when it came to the well-being of his only remaining relative.

“Well, my darling niece, I hope for your sake that she was as taken with you as you are with her and will come flying to visit.” Sir Gustus said kindly. “I dare say I fairly approve of her for the sole reason that she inspires you to take more fresh air than you normally do.” His tone turned somewhat admonishing at the end.

Having noted that his attention had a calming effect on Lexa's anxious mood Sir Gustus applied himself to the task and completely abandoned his reading habit. Although he was a bachelor by design and never desired to have a family of his own, he doted on his niece whom he took in without a second thought when his younger sister and her husband met their untimely demise nearly two decades ago. Little Alexandra had only been three at the time and presented quite the challenge to Sir Gustus' household but in his opinion she paid off the price of hardship with her gentle heart and quick wit a hundred times over.

It was close to four when they were jarred from their conversation by the sound of the doorbell. Lexa subtly adjusted herself in her seat, composing herself. Not soon afterwards footsteps could be heard approaching the drawing room and a moment later it opened, revealing Ryder, their footman, who announced that Miss Griffin had come to call on Miss Woods, politely showing the former lady into the room and exiting swiftly to inform the staff that refreshments were necessary.

“Good afternoon, Sir Gustus, Miss Woods.” Clarke said warmly with a brave smile that belied the tumult of anxious butterflies flying up a storm in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *half-hour gentleman is a Victorian expression for a man whose apparent good manners are only superficial.
> 
> So what do you think of this chapter? Please leave a review for the hungry author :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update BUT I come bearing gifts! :) 
> 
> The reason for my slow update is that I decided to try my hand at video editing again and this is the result: My very first Clexa video. It's not a companion piece to this story but thought you might enjoy anyway. Let me know?
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmIt4Eph8s8
> 
> Also enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think :)

“So... my niece tells me that you have been studying abroad in an establishment for talented young women?” Sir Gustus prompted a more serious discussion after tea had been brought in and pleasantries had been exchanged.

Lexa spied the smallest of flickers in Miss Griffin's eyelashes as she hurriedly took a sip of her tea, quite possibly to compose herself for an answer. She made a mental note to observe her new acquaintance's facial expressions more closely to ascertain what that flicker meant for in her experience it most often belied confusion or deception. _'Miss Griffin did not seem like the kind prone to deception... I wonder....'_

“Well, it was not so much an establishment but rather a private tutor” Miss Griffin explained in a composed tone. “My father has a very close friend on the continent who took an interest in my education.”

Lexa was aware that she was staring at their guest with an interest that perhaps seemed almost inappropriate but she felt herself inexplicably incapable of tearing her eyes away. _'There it was again. That quick flicker of her lashes when she blinks too rapidly. I must know what is causing it.'_ Lexa thought. Momentarily distracted, she just barely managed to make use of the short spell of silence and speak up before her uncle did.

“Uncle Gustus, do be a dear and ring for Ryder please?* I very much wish to go outside into the fresh air.” Lexa entreated, hopeful that her show of enthusiasm for the fresh air would, if not necessarily distract, but at least persuade her uncle to refrain from cross-questioning Miss Griffin.

Uncle Gustus' heavy gaze only settled on Lexa for a moment before he nodded slowly, seemingly making up his mind, and he rang for Ryder. Lexa chanced a glance in Miss Griffin's direction who tactfully pretended to preoccupy herself with buttering a scone while her hosts exchanged words. She noted a strained determination in her eyes as she appeared to be entirely focused on spreading the appropriate amount of butter perfectly over the top of the scone, quite clearly avoiding returning the gaze she would have otherwise seen turned in her direction.

“Miss Griffin, I hope a bit of fresh air sounds agreeable to you?” Lexa asked in order to break the silence before it became too uncomfortable. “My uncle is quite adamant that I never get enough of it and I just agreed to indulge his desire today before you called. I would be quite happy if you would accompany me for a short tour around our grounds.” Lexa offered not so subtly highlighting the fact that she wished only the two of them to go.

Clarke felt herself relax and she was sure that there were visible signs she could not prevent her hosts from seeing. Her shoulders slumped somewhat as tension suddenly left them and strive as she might she could not help exhale the breath she had been unconsciously holding in. She hoped that she at least managed the latter in a somewhat collected manner.

“By all means, Miss Woods.” Clarke replied, politely smiling and nodding. “I have heard about your lovely grounds from my cousin quite a bit.” She felt grateful for the change of topic. In yet another bid to stall for time she gently bit into her previously buttered scone. Adverse as she was to social games she far from inept at them. She knew that she had just allowed her opportunity to steer the conversation to her liking to pass, choosing to put her faith in Miss Woods to come to her rescue again.

Lexa acknowledged Miss Griffin's acceptance with an automatic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes which were, to her confusion, fixated on the way the blonde woman's lips gingerly wrapped around the scone for a moment. Dismissing the odd way Miss Griffin's movements seemed to distract her as a symptom of truly needing fresh air she quickly collected herself and stood from the armchair she had been occupying.

  
  


* * *

  
Both young women had been infinitely relieved when Sir Gustus declined the necessarily extended invitation to join them on their stroll, although they would later find that their motivations had been entirely different. Lexa knew that her uncle would likely prefer to continue with his reading where he left off seeing how she had kept him from it all afternoon. It was her great fortune that her uncle was such a man of regular habits. She dearly wished to secure a moment of privacy with Miss Griffin for by this time a dread had formed in pit of her stomach regarding what she perceived as possible conceit. She absolutely needed to sort out any falsehood before she allowed any emotional attachment to form with her new acquaintance.

Clarke, on her part, was simply relieved that her interrogation by Sir Gustus, as well-meaning as it was, would not continue. She desperately hated lying about her education but it was the one condition on which her mother would allow her to escape her sight.

“Miss Griffin” Lexa said eventually, when they had wandered a safe distance away from the house. He tone was somewhat sharp for she marshalled her emotions to a calm collectedness before addressing the problem she assumed was at hand. “Kindly correct me if I am wrong but I perceived a degree of nervousness in your person that I did not see during our previous encounter. Your eyes appeared to have twitched _quite_ nervously when my uncle asked about your time in France.” She stated her case with uncanny precision but attempted to force some degree of warmth into her voice lest she should offend the young woman now staring at her with wide eyes. “I may be entirely wrong and you might perceive me to be quite beastly for being so blunt.” She added almost apologetically. “Or else I might be quite out of bounds to ask for such intimate details about your character but I really must know. Is there some sort of secret in your history that must be concealed?”

Clarke had not seen this turn of events coming and she was shocked by the brunette's forwardness. She felt infinitely fortunate when Sir Gustus seemed to have approved of their friendship and anticipated a pleasant walk with the wonderful creature she was growing so fond of. She couldn't decide if the fact that Miss Woods caught onto her telling facial expressions made her admire the woman or be weary of her keen eyes. _'Well... I assume now would be the appropriate time to come clean to her if I expect this friendship to go any further.'_

Lexa had taken the long minute of silence from Miss Griffin as a sign that she may have taken offence. She contemplated whether she had the right to interrogate this unknown woman standing in front of her. It was certainly not unheard of for people of higher rank to want to make sure that any lady they were allowing into their good graces was of a reputable nature. However, in her desire to avoid another scandal Lexa realized that she may have overstepped. Just as she was about to apologize, however, Miss Griffin spoke up.

“There is. Not by my own desire, however.” Clarke said, deciding that bravery and honesty made her character more commendable than pride. “My mother. My mother is ashamed of my education and wishes to keep its details well-hidden from people connected to her family.” Clarke said solemnly. She herself was certainly not ashamed of it and she decided to put on a brave face. If her new friend was to disappoint her by sharing her mother's sentiments it was all the better that she find out about it early in the acquaintanceship.

Lexa blinked several times in surprise. It was certainly not the answer she had anticipated. Her wild imagination had conjured images of a dark secret, possibly a wrong done either to or by Miss Griffin that necessitated her departure from the islands. The fact the woman was forced into deceiving her family's acquaintances over something as mundane as education made her blood suddenly boil. _'God, why must you will womankind to suffer the inequalities of our society so...'_

“My apologies, Miss Griffin. I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy. I have to admit that my imagination ran away with me and I anticipated something horrid must be forcing you to a life of deception.” Lexa said sincerely, gently laying her hand on the other woman's arm.

Clarke noted with some interest that the genuine tone of Miss Woods had a calming effect on her incensed mood despite the slight offensiveness of what she was actually revealing. She found herself smiling at the brunette woman and felt the playfulness of it reach her eyes.

“Well, Miss Woods. How about we continue our walk and I will tell you all the decidedly boring details of my conundrum... _if_ you promise to tell me the horrid things you had imagined of me.” She said the last words with a toothy grin and she could feel mischief bringing her eyes to life.

  
  


* * *

Clarke couldn't help the incredulous laughter that bubbled from her lips as Miss Woods revealed to her that she fairly imagined her to have committed a very gross indecency. She also noted that Miss Woods had the good grace to at least blush a very flattering shade of red upon her admission. Being the middle of summer the sun still high enough in the sky to provide them with warmth and light and the way the sun's rays danced on the expanse of Miss Woods' cascade of dark hair made for an attractive contrast.

“Really, Miss Woods? A pregnancy? And with a married man, no less?” Clarke asked, laughter and disbelief still colouring her voice but there was definitely mirth in it as well.

“I did apologise for my unruly imagination, Miss Griffin.” Lexa answered somewhat sheepishly. “I will admit that I may be guilty of overindulging in the romance novels found in my uncle's library.”

Clarke's laughter bubbled again for she knew quite well the type of novels her friend seemed to enjoy. The ghastly things were extremely long and the ladies were always in so much extreme trouble it was a wonder any prince could measure up to the challenge of saving their beloved ladies.

“My life if certainly not all that exciting, Miss Woods.” Clarke eventually said. “My father is a very kind-hearted man and a great thinker. He is very much ahead of our time and believed that if I enjoyed learning I should be allowed to do it.” She began her story and noted that Miss Woods whole demeanour completely changed. She sat up on the blanket they shared and leaned a little closer, rapt with attention.

“I wanted to learn anatomy but my mother would not hear of it. She fretted that me having an education would make me unmarriable.” Clarke said sourly. “Father was supportive of my desires and when Girton college was opened he was open to enrolling me. A proper education in anatomy was of course still impossible but I would have been allowed to take some classes. Mother, however, was all in tears about it. I'm told words were exchanged and the compromise was that I would tell everyone that I've been studying in France under a private tutor. And by everyone I mean my mother included.”

The mirth they had shared minutes ago melted under the heavy weight of Clarke's words. She saw how Miss Woods' forest green eyes filled with compassion and empathy. The brunette scooted closer and draped an arm around her shoulder in a show of solidarity.

“I am truly sorry, Miss Griffin. I will not pretend to have even the faintest idea of what that must feel like, being forced to keep secrets from your own mother. Not only because I do not remember mine but also because I am quite blessed with uncle Gustus.” Lexa said.

“Miss Griffin?” Clarke questioned the use of her name in such a formal way. Her general countenance was still filled with sorrow but there was also a shy smile pulling at her lips. “With your leave, I would consider ourselves past beyond such formalities? Clarke will do.” She offered hopefully.

“Only if you will call me Lexa in return.” Lexa said with an answering smile of her own. “And never Alexandra.” She added with a roll of her eyes.

“Thank you, Lexa.” Clarke said warmly, raising her hand to squeeze the one on the end of the arm still draped over her shoulders.

“Thank _you,_ Clarke. For trusting me despite me coming after you so bluntly.” Lexa said, her fingers tightening around Clarke's in return. It was a good day in Lexa's books for she had made a new friend, one who was not only vastly entertaining but also seemed to be of very sound character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lexa asked uncle Gustus to ring for the servant because as I read it was an important part of etiquette in the 19th century that whenever a man was present it was their job to interact with the servants instead of the ladies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially thought I'd be updating more often but it seems that once a week is what I can reliably commit to. Here's a new chapter, a bit longer than the previous ones, hope it was worth the wait :)

The next afternoon found Clarke perched in the alcove of a window looking onto the back garden of her relatives' home. By a lucky coincidence she had glanced out the window just the moment when a break in the otherwise overcast sky allowed a few rays of sunlight to penetrate the heavy rain clouds. A small statue that decorated the back terrace of the house was suddenly bathed in gold which created such an enrapturing sight that Clarke had immediately felt the desire to commit it to memory. She stood transfixed in the alcove, staring at the spectre to memorize the fleeting details before the shifting clouds put an end to the rare vision.

Retrieving her sketchbook and pencils she immediately started drawing the outlines, hoping to eventually paint it on canvas. An hour later she was busy attempting to catch the likeness of the glow of the statue in black and white with nothing but a simple charcoal pencil at her disposal. She found that the alcove was the perfect location for such work as the cushioned settee allowed her to sit with her legs bent at the knee to support her sketch pad.

She was staring at the piece of paper with intent, her nose hovering close over it, eyes narrowed in concentration. She was so engrossed in the fine details that she failed to notice the approaching servant until the moment she had been addressed. Her name being uttered from such close quarters made her start with alarm and much to her embarrassment a squeak of terror left her lips.

“My apologies, Miss, I didn't mean to startle you.” the housemaid said with genuine worry written over her features. She had only recently started at her new situation and it would not look good on her if she startled her Master's family members to death.

“That is quite fine...” Clarke trailed off only for a brief second before the servant's name floated to the surface of her memory. “Peggy.” She gave the brunette young woman a small smile to indicate that she had not managed to invoke her ire, she knew the girl bore no ill intentions. She looked at the flustered maid expectantly, assuming that the girl had a reason to address her but she did not want to further embarrass her.

Peggy stared at Master Philip's niece with chagrin for a few more seconds before realizing that she had failed to deliver the message entrusted to her. “I'm sorry Miss” she apologised again and felt herself flush an even deeper shade of red “Mr. Stevens bade me to deliver this message to you. It arrived not a minute ago.” She handed over the envelope which now bore a slight dent where she had pressed her fingers too forcefully.

Clarke took the note from her but chose not to comment on the damaged envelope. She had no notion as to the reason but the girl seemed to be terrified of her and she did not wish to further agitate the poor creature. She dismissed Peggy with a kind thank you. Before Clarke turned her attention to the message she watched the girl all but run out of the room.

It was a curious note. It was a simple sheet of paper with the four corners folded and sealed with a spot of wax that bore a curved 'W' in the middle. Clarke's stomach gave a turn at the sight for she knew immediately that she had no relations or acquaintances with that initial save the Woods'. The mere notion that Sir Gustus would write to her in such a manner was so scandalous that she had dismissed the possibility without really entertaining it. The message could, therefore, only come from Lexa.

After cracking the seal open she recognized Lexa's penmanship from the visiting card she had been given upon their first meeting.

  
  


My Dear Clarke,

I had planned on making some calls today but I am rather disinclined to take leave

of my bed owing to the fact that I feel weak when I do so. I believe it must be nothing

serious for I have gained some strength by resting for an hour but I am so dreadfully

bored. If you are not committed to other company would you do me the favour of coming

Yours,

Lexa

  
  


Clarke's facial expressions transformed rapidly with the information absorbed from the letter. A small smile played on her lips upon reading the salutation only to have them curve downwards when she learned that her friend was ill. Her brows immediately knitted together and her mind flashed to their rather long walk in the park with a pang of guilt, wondering if she was responsible for the decline in Lexa's health. Her features then relaxed when she found that the brunette's condition was not serious and she finally settled on her trademark toothy grin when she read the affectionate invitation.

Deciding that her sketch was good enough she abandoned her solitary pastime in favour of visiting her friend in need. Spying Stevens down the corridor she enquired about her uncle's whereabouts and was pleased to learn that he was last seen on the terrace by the drawing room enjoying an afternoon cigar. Once she had secured his permission Clarke immediately set out to Woodfield Manor.

* * *

  
  


Clarke was shown to Lexa's room immediately, the servants having been informed that if she were to call it would be on Lexa's specific request. The housemaid knocked on the door and poked her head in to enquire about whether her mistress was inclined to receive her guest. After a muffled answer Clarke could not make out the door swung open indicating that Lexa must have replied in the affirmative.

The housemaid stepped inside first as was customary for servants accompanying non-familial callers to their masters and mistresses. The girl had a dirty shade of blonde hair as far as Clarke could tell judging by the cap she had worn as part of her uniform. She stepped inside after her and allowed her eyes to briefly roam around her surroundings before settling on Lexa.

“Lexa, darling, I trust you are feeling better?” She asked by way of greeting.

“Oh, much better now that you have come to rescue me from my infinite boredom.” Lexa replied with a smile. She was sitting in bed, covered with numerous layers from what Clarke could tell. “Annie, would you please draw the arm chair closer?” She turned to Annie who had respectfully waited by the door for further instructions.

“Yes, Miss.” She replied instantly and hurried across the room.

Clarke awkwardly stood by the bed while she waited for the housemaid called Annie to take her leave. She wanted to ask Lexa what symptoms she could detect and offer her services if need be but she had to be conscious of what information she disclosed in front of people. She knew all too well that it would not do well to betray too much knowledge of ailments in front of the servants for that was the surest way to start gossip. Gossip was a luxury she could not afford lest her mother confine her under her unrelenting scrutiny again.

During these brief moments Clarke examined Lexa's room and found it to be quite stylish. The walls were covered in a deep shade of green wallpaper that had fine flower prints on it in a green that was one shade lighter. Clarke could barely see the print from a distance and she noted with approval that the design lent the room an airiness that most flower printed rooms she saw lacked. The bed frame and the wall panels were a matching dark brown which pleasantly contrasted with the light colours in the room.

“Thank you Annie, that will be all for now.” Lexa's voice jolted Clarke from her musings and she turned her attention back to her friend. “You may bring us tea later. I believe it would be prudent to take tea here today.”

“Very well, Miss.” Annie said respectfully and closed the door as she left.

  
  


“Do the servants always distress you so much, Clarke? Or were you truly that distracted by my bedroom design?” Lexa asked teasingly, her lips stretched into a toothy grin of her own.

“Only when I wish to speak of things that would be inappropriate for their ears.” Clarke responded to the teasing in kind, largely keeping a straight face. The only hint she gave to the other woman was a raised eyebrow.

She found that she enjoyed the brunette's forwardness. It was a mere echo of some of her schoolmates' brazen refusal to 'submit to society's expectations' as they called it. They and their circle of friends did so with a gusto and enthusiasm that made Clarke admire them, particularly the ones who went so far as to refuse wearing dresses altogether. Yet she had to admit that Lexa's unrelenting wit and forwardness combined with her decidedly feminine elegance affected her altogether differently. And she found that she quite enjoyed the difference.

“And what inappropriate topics had you in mind to broach?” Lexa asked, her face a blank mask. She had half the inclination to narrow her eyes in suspicion but she was unsure if this was not Clarke's humour again. After their outing yesterday she vowed to never be bested again. Once the necessary unpleasantness of their initial interview was over and forgotten Clarke showed that she was quite the verbal sparring partner and had managed to outwit Lexa more often than she was used to.

“Your symptoms.” Clarke voluntarily gave herself away with a grin. “I had wanted to ask what symptoms you were experiencing but could not do so without betraying my deeper than usual knowledge of medicine.” She finished in a more serious tone.

Lexa beamed momentarily at Clarke's non-verbal admission that her witticism had been caught then she turned thoughtful. “I really could not say to be honest. It is just a headache mostly. Also a slight weakness when I walk about for more than a quarter of an hour. My legs ache quite a bit but I believe that is just their protest at having been rather abused with yesterday's walk we took.”

Clarke listened attentively and made a mental note to contrive to lure the brunette out into open more often. If their walk yesterday had taxed her legs that meant that her uncle had been correct in chastising her for not getting enough fresh air and exercise.

“Have you experienced a fever at any point? Do you not feel hot now?” She started asking the customary questions.

“I do not think I have had a fever but you may check my forehead now if you think it prudent” Lexa replied.

Clarke immediately stood from the comfortable armchair and sat on the edge of the large bed. Lexa scooted closer to her, allowing the many covers to slip down as she hoisted herself into an upright position. She was wearing a simple white cotton nightgown with a lacy neckline. Clarke reached out and gently pressed her hand to Lexa's forehead. Her skin was smooth and its temperature pleasant, she could detect neither a warmness nor a coolness to the touch. There was no moisture either.

“You do not have a fever which is good. Would you also allow me to measure your.. heart rate?” Clarke enquired, not wishing to invade her friend's privacy. She stumbled over the word, almost saying it in the medical language but then she remembered the many awkward moments when she had to explain to her fellow students what a pulse was.

Lexa's eyes grew wide in surprise and she did not answer for a moment. Her left hand reached to the string of her nightgown playing with it as she contemplated the question. “If you think it necessary. I have never had that done to me. How would you do it?” She asked, her voice losing some of its customary confidence.

Perceiving her friend's reluctance Clarke willed her face to soften, her gaze transformed from professionally serious to gentle and she smiled reassuringly as had been advised at one of Miss Nightingale's lectures on bedside manners. The brunette's nervous fumbling with the opening of her nightgown led Clarke to understand that her friend's anxiety was brought about by the assumption that she would require her to undress or would need to be touched close to her heart.

“I would press my fingers to your neck just below your jaw. Then I would require you to count to sixty silently saying the last number aloud so I should know to stop counting your heart beats.” Clarke explained her usual method the way she would to her schoolmates who had studied other subjects but were willing to allow her to practice on them.

Lexa immediately relaxed when she realized that Clarke was not asking her to expose herself in any way. She was unsure why it made her anxious, after all Clarke was a woman as well, but she felt it would have been inappropriate. Despite becoming fast friends Lexa was aware that she had only known the woman for less than a week.

“Very well. Let us do it.” Lexa agreed and tipped her head to the side to allow access to her neck.

“You do not need to do that.” Clarke said and gently guided Lexa's head back with two of her fingers positioned below her jaw. Her touch was soft and when she pulled away her index finger brushed along Lexa's jaw. Clarke's intention was to sooth the brunette's nerves if they were still rattled in any way. “If you do that it becomes more difficult to do it actually.” Clarke explained clumsily. Lexa nodded in understanding and settled comfortably, her chest rising and falling with the deep calming breaths she took. She could not explain why but her breath nearly hitched when Clarke had directed her into the correct position.

“Are you ready?” Clarke asked for permission one last time. When Lexa nodded again, this time more confidently she pressed her fingers just below the brunette's jaw, feeling around for the pulse point. Lexa's skin felt incredibly soft under her fingers. It confused her to some degree that her own heart beat had seemed to speed up when she positioned her fingers. Naturally she had been excited at her first few attempts but the novelty had worn off quite a while ago and she had not felt such excitement any more. _'It is probably Lexa's own excitement spilling into me. After all it is her first time doing this...'_ Clarke willed her emotions to calm. “Begin.” She instructed and started counting silently herself. 

“Uh...Clarke?” Lexa said at some point, looking sheepishly at the blonde woman. 

Clarke knitted her eyebrows at the sight wondering if there was a problem. She removed her fingers immediately when Lexa addressed her but her pulse had been steady enough before, therefore, unless the woman possessed a remarkable tolerance for pain, she could not be in any discomfort.

“Could we begin again? I was slightly distracted by a thought and forgot to count after forty-three.” Lexa admitted and she could feel the tips of her ears burning up in embarrassment. She felt exceptionally foolish about not being able to follow such a simple instruction.

The furious blush now colouring the brunette's pale skin was an unmistakeable sign of her embarrassment and Clarke yearned to sooth her nerves. “Of course, Lexa. It is quite fine to get distracted, you are not the first with whom this happened. But your pulse was quite steady and normal.” 

Clarke sat up straight moving her person father away from Lexa in order to give the woman some personal space. “As you do not exhibit the symptoms of the most common ailments my professional opinion is that you must have taxed yourself yesterday.” Clarke said, choosing the most professional words that came to her mind and schooling her features into a sombre expression. However, her tone, which she laced with humour, deliberately betrayed her.

“Why thank you, Doctor Clarke. Does that mean I shall live to see another day?” Lexa responded with an overly affected fake gratitude. She struggled to keep a straight face, her eyes were large and rounded shining with the effort to refrain from laughing. 

“I believe so, my dear.” Clarke replied immediately with an equally playful tone. She had been used to such games with her schoolmates. They rather often exhibited such antics when she requested their assistance in practising what she had been taught. “But I shall have to prescribe you a stroll around the gardens for at least an hour, four times a week. You must build up your strength.”

Lexa worried at her bottom lip for a few seconds in contemplation of her reply. The witticism had sprung to the tip of her tongue immediately but she checked herself upon realizing that such a request would have implications.

“Would you do me the service of joining me on those walks, Doctor Clarke?” Lexa asked, deciding that she indeed enjoyed the company of this blonde mystery enough to commit to spending significantly more time with her. “To supervise that I am following the doctor's orders.” She said the last with a cheeky grin.

Clarke could not hold onto her laughter and it burst forth from her lips energetically. Lexa followed suit almost immediately and the two girls laughed heartily at their little game for an extended minute before either of them could compose themselves.

“It is only natural, my dear.” Clarke eventually said happily, understanding that Lexa had extended an indefinite invitation for her to visit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing my update window last weekend, I had a friend visiting :)

The next day Clarke was obliged to accompany her aunt on her calls, although as to the reason why, she had not the faintest idea for her attention immediately faltered when she realized that she would not be able to go to Woodfield. Guessing that it must have something to do with her mother’s wish for her to be finally out and her unsaid expectation of there being a suitor in the near future did nothing to improve her mood. Being twenty years old made her quite unusual for not being out yet, when most of her peers were introduced to society at the age of seventeen but she was, in truth, rather grateful. Such things were of no interest at Girton and her like-minded friends all scoffed at the ridiculousness of the affair altogether. Clarke’s only misfortune was that from May to June she had to suffer her mother’s stifling expectations and incessant woes about her only child growing up to be a spinster. While each year since she became old enough to be out she had promised her mother that she would join her on her calls she had skilfully evaded it, one year going so far as to not even come home for the summer until the season was quite over.

It was yet another bid to evade her mother’s control that led her to flee across the country and shelter herself at her aunt and uncle’s house, hoping that her father would intervene on her behalf and not allow her mother to persuade her brother and his wife to aid her. Clarke suspected that words must have been exchanged for she remembered her uncle and aunt to be rather less indulgent than they were currently proving to be but it was not at all clear which of her parents had come out victorious. The considerable liberty with which she was allowed to move about the city suggested that her relations had leaned more towards her father’s opinion on the matter but the very fact that she was this very minute trapped inside a carriage, wearing a dress and making social calls with her aunt had reeked of her mother’s influence. Whenever she thought of these calls her mind conjured the smell of old settled dust and tufts of dried lavender placed in unaired closets the year before. Her nostrils twitched disagreeably as she gazed outside at the passing trees and hills. From a distance she could see Woodfield Manor and her heart longed to fly to her friend rather than trudge along in the opposite direction.

Envy coiled in her belly as she thought of her cousin who was, of course, at liberty to visit Lexa any day, having been courting her for some six months now. It was a curious feeling, this envy, and Clarke spent the rest of her journey examining it from various angles. She had always been jealous of Finn to some extent. Him being a man had so many liberties she coveted. He was sent to Eton as all well-bred young men are and he had always been expected to go on to Oxford and make something of himself. He was not obliged to call on anyone he did not desire to see, he did not need to obtain special allowances from his father to move about the city. The only constraint he did have to submit himself to, as far as Clarke could tell, was that his mother would simply not hear of him becoming a bachelor.

Upon inquiry her mother had reported that her cousin had grown up to be one of those fashionable dandies who strutted about London throughout the whole season leaving for their clubs the moment their eyes were open, arriving fashionably late to the dance halls from whence they found their way to bed at the early morning hours only to repeat the process the very next day. All this Clarke had envied with a passion, but not as much, she was surprised to find, as she envied him his current company. For she realized that she envied him his liberties on principle. The pleasures of the clubs she was denied altogether simply for being a woman and so were the other pleasures of society unless she were to declare herself available on the marriage market. In which case she would still be weighed down heavily by rules of decorum, never at liberty to dance with whomever she wished to dance with, say whatever she wished to say or ignore whomever she wished to ignore. And yet all of these injustices that sparked her ire appeared to dull in comparison to how much she wished at that very moment to be drawing Lexa’s profile as the brunette read a book in the glorious afternoon sun.

“Clarke, dear, are you quite alright?” Her aunt jolted her from her musings. She jumped slightly when she heard her name, being so engrossed in her thoughts that after a while she even forgot to politely hum or agree to keep up the semblance of a conversation.

“Yes, Aunt Helen, my apologies. I was distracted by the view from the carriage.” Clarke replied, her cheeks flushing red with guilt and embarrassment.

“Look here, child. I know you do not wish to go on these visits with me. But your mother is quite beside herself with worry over you. You mustn’t treat your mother so.” Mrs. Collins childed her niece, although she kept her tone affectionate to take away the sting of her words. “I know how you are. But we must at least keep up appearances. Once or twice a week you shall visit with me.” She said firmly, her previously gentle tone wearing off. “The rest of the week you are at liberty to haunt Woodfield. Assuming Finn will not revolt that is.” She added with a chuckle.

Clarke sat in the carriage across from her aunt effectively stunned into silence. Either her aunt had undergone a dramatic change in the many years she had not seen her or her memories of the woman were corrupted by time.

“Oh, dear. I seem to have stunned you into silence.” Mrs. Collins said faking alarm for a moment only to smirk at her niece in the very next. “Come now, Clarke. I may be considerably older than you but I am not yet hard of sight or hearing. I can see you are quite taken with our wonderful Miss Woods and she certainly with you. You will be the talk of the city when all the mothers find out that you have not been here more than a week and already befriended the elusive Miss Woods.”

“Elusive, you say?” Clarke asked, her mind grabbing onto the odd description.

“Oh quite. She rarely visits, and then only a select few. But the balls, oh Clarke, the balls she organizes in her uncle’s manor are spectacular enough that she is the talk of the city nonetheless.” Mrs. Collins said enthusiastically. “There have been many marriages that have come out of her balls in the last few years. Hers as you know, not one of them. Everyone is absolutely on pins and needles to see when she will finally settle on a young man. You may call me biased but my Finn does seem like he might secure her hand eventually.”

The burning coil of envy tightened Clarke’s stomach muscles once again and she sat a little straighter, keeping the evidence of her annoyance off her face with some effort. When Clarke failed to reply again Mrs. Collins regarded her shrewdly but did not attempt to engage her in conversation again until they had arrived at their destination.

* * *

Lexa had persuaded Mr. Collins to take her to the city on the pretext of needing new gloves. In fact there was nothing wrong with her old ones but in order to reconcile her desire to follow Clarke’s medical opinion with her desire to keep the memory of their walk in the park untainted she needed to take her prescribed walk somewhere else. The city would do even if showing herself alone in the company of Mr. Collins would have lasting implications as far as society was concerned. The man had been courting her for six months during which time she had gained a sound knowledge of his character. He was a gentle enough soul and seemed to be politely affectionate. He did seem earnest in his intentions yet there was such a strange lack in him that she sometimes wondered, or rather hoped, that he was a flapdoodle.* Regardless, he was a good enough man and Lexa decided that she should be seen about the city with him.

He hopped out of the carriage as soon as it stopped and gallantly reached for Lexa’s hand to help her down the steps. Much to her surprise Mr. Collins appeared to be significantly more animated than what she was used to. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he started down the main street, chattering with her about shops he would recommend they visit if she were interested in his opinion.

“So Miss Woods, how do you find my cousin?” Mr. Collins asked after exiting a shop he insisted sold the best neckties he had ever had the pleasure of wrapping around his neck. Lexa was quite amused at his expressions. His very speech seems to have come alive.

“Oh I am quite taken with her, I should think. What a lovely creature your cousin is.” Lexa replied, not shying away from expressing her affection for the girl with enthusiasm. “I am rather grateful that you have introduced us, Mr. Collins.”

“Oh I surmised as much. Seeing how Clarke cannot stop talking about your merits. Also you have seen a great deal more of her since last week than you have of me.” Finn replied with a wry smile. Seeing how it was nearly tea time he guided Lexa towards a pleasant restaurant he knew for a fact took women customers as well.**

“What is that?” Lexa responded with surprise. “Is that jealousy I hear, Mr. Collins?” For the time being Lexa chose to ignore his comment about Clarke talking about her so much. She felt flattered but her mind was otherwise engaged.

“I do not believe I have much to be jealous of” Mr. Collins deflected the accusation “I was merely making an observation. Has she asked you to sit for her yet?”

“She has not. Does she draw then?” Lexa asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, does she! She is quite accomplished in that regard.” Mr. Collins launched into a rather enthusiastic description of his cousin’s talents. Apparently Clarke had brought a gift to her aunt and uncle in gratitude for them allowing her this holiday. Prior to departing she had painted her mother’s likeness in oil and the painting. “I dare say it is perfect. I fairly thought that my aunt would crawl right out of the frame by some dark magic she had put on the canvas.”

“Well in that case I must absolutely ask her if she will paint my portrait as well.” Lexa said with determination.

“I feel envious of any wall that your beauty would grace, Miss Woods. Surely if Clarke’s talented hands were to capture your beauty you would not deny me the pleasure of having the painting?” Mr. Collins said with a bow, almost as if he were asking her to dance. His lips twisted into a coy smile, his eyes shining with laughter.

“Well, now, Mr. Collins. Is it the city air that does such wonders to your mood? You are quite the entertainer today.” Lexa marvelled at this new side of Mr. Collins she had not seen before.

* * *

  


Clarke had endured the dreadful boredom of city gossip mostly about persons unknown to her for the better part of three hours in six households she was obliged to visit. The only times her attention truly perked were when some of her aunt’s acquaintances mentioned Lexa. Her aunt had been correct and nearly all of them looked upon her with wonder when they found out about what fast she and Lexa had become. She smiled politely and answered questions throughout the afternoon, dodging the topic of her education altogether. It was beyond exhausting and she was greatly relieved when her aunt declared that they were to head home for today.

“Clarke, my dear. Do you want to stop for a spot of tea?” Mrs. Collins offered as their carriage pull through the busy main street on their way home.

“Tea?” Clarke asked absent-mindedly as she turned her attention to her aunt.

“Yes, dear. Tea. Common beverage drunk across the kingdom.” Mrs. Collins said in a flat tone, attempting to humor her niece. When all she achieved as a dumbfounded look from her otherwise quick-witted niece Mrs. Collins started chuckling good-naturedly. “Goodness gracious. As talented as you are with your hands Clarke… you certainly do not have much talent in the way of acting. I can see you are quite fed up with today, child. But rest assured, your mother will be pleased when I can report to her that you have been introduced to so many families with eligible sons.” She deliberately emphasized the last words, seemingly taking a perverse pleasure in torturing her niece.

Clarke visibly cringed, her mind conjuring a vision of her mother’s elation of something that she herself detested. She was about to change the topic and declare that tea sounded very much to her liking when a chance glance out the window wiped every thought out of her mind. Right there, in front of her, sat Lexa and Finn in the out-door area of a restaurant, apparently deep in some amusing conversation which left them both in fits of laughter. It was only for a few brief seconds that she had seen them, for she could not allow herself the luxury of climbing on her knees to continue staring through the rear window. Yet those seconds were enough for her mind to trouble her with yet another vision. The familiar sound of Lexa’s laughter rang in her ears from the previous day and the painful coil of envy returned to her belly with a vengeance.

“I do not care much for tea today, aunt Helen. Would you find it dreadfully dull of me if I wanted to go home? I think I feel a headache coming onto me.” Clarke replied hastily and gingerly touched her fingertips to her temple for good measure.

Mrs. Collins merely arched an eyebrow in surprise. She would have thought that Clarke would enjoy eating out but decided that she must either be more exhausted that she expected or she had simply misjudged the girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * a flapdoodle is basically a sexually incompetent man. That's real legit Victorian slang I dug up for this chapter! :)
> 
> ** apparently women were not really allowed to visit restaurants or coffee shops until the late 19th century. Crazy, huh? They only started gradually opening up between the 1860 and 1880s.


	7. Chapter 7

A gentle breeze caressed Clarke’s sun-warmed cheeks as she and Lexa partook in their almost daily trek towards the lakes. A few strands of her loose blond hair tickled her forehead as they were blown into her face but she was unable to tame them at present. One hand was firmly gripping the handle of the picnic basket she had been adamant to carry herself while the other was currently extended to aid the brunette accompanying her. A tree had recently fallen across the path that led to their destination and while Clarke had no mistaken notion of Lexa’s abilities to overcome such a trifling obstacle on her own she was in good spirits and decided to offer the gesture in good humour. “Miss Woods? I believe the doctor’s orders were taking a light walk rather than overcoming an obstacle course.” She took the task of representing a gentleman with such seriousness that she even bowed with an elegant movement of her neck. Her twinkling eyes and playful smirk acted to counter her efforts and betray her intention to merely entertain.

“Why thank you, Dr. Clarke.” Lexa said, her own lips twisting into a smirk just as readily. She had always been quick to respond to humour and play pretend was the absolute height of a good lark in her opinion. She gently took the offered hand, her fingertips sliding across Clarke’s naked wrist. As the blond’s fingers wrapped around the back of her hand securely she noted with some surprise how soft and warm they were while appearing rather sturdy at the same time. Her mind conjured the memory of the day before when the same soft fingertips caressed along the line of her jaw. Momentarily distracted she had miss stepped and her toe caught on the bark of the fallen tree trunk forcing her to stumble and grip the hand in hers more forcefully.

Clarke reacted without hesitation and dropped the burden from her other hand to cup the elbow of the brunette’s other arm, steadying her with both of her hands. She noted with some worry that the brunette’s gently tanned skin flushed red rather quickly. “Lexa, are you quite alright?” She asked, dropping their game immediately. Her trained eyes moved swiftly across Lexa’s features looking for any of the customary physical signs of weakness.

“Yes, Clarke. I am quite fine, thank you.” Lexa nearly choked on her words with embarrassment. Her mind was subjected to a torrent of confusing thoughts. She felt rather vexed at her present clumsiness which was altogether foreign to her nature; her mind felt sluggish to analyse what had led to her predicament for it was much too caught up in the memory of her prior interactions with Clarke, augmented by the feeling of the hand still firmly clasping her own, its thumb rubbing the back of her hand in small circles. Clarke’s intention was undoubtedly of a soothing nature yet Lexa’s embarrassment was in some part owing to the fact that she could not comprehend why it seemed to have a counter effect.

Clarke had realized that the flush of redness colouring Lexa’s skin was brought on not by a sudden surge of illness but by embarrassment when the poor creature refused to meet her eye. Desirous of alleviating the brunette’s suffering Clarke sprung to action and released her hand while retrieving the abandoned picnic basket. “Shall we carry on then?” She asked gaily, resolving to make no further mention of the affair whatsoever.

* * *

Their ease of conversation was swiftly regained as they carried on down the path cut into the small forest of the private park. Their play pretend of having a doctor and patient’s relationship was not resumed just yet out of tact. Clarke, however, felt a new protective readiness possess her body. Her muscles felt more readily alive, almost alert of their own accord and while she carried an easily amicable conversation her shoulders were tense with the prospect of pouncing upon the first sign of need. It was certainly uncharted territory to her mind, this protectiveness that surged in her heart for Lexa. While the majority of her attention was successfully employed in entertaining the brunette walking beside her now at her accustomed ease; she did note with an oddly pleasurable sense of irony that the less thought she tried to give her new bodily awareness the more purchase it found in her mind.

“Oh this spot seems particularly delightful just now.” Clarke admired the view, every other thought all but forgotten as her artist’s eye shone with excitement. “Shall we picnic here then?” She asked.

“Certainly, if it pleases you so.” Lexa offered with a smile, happiness blossoming inside her at Clarke’s evident enthusiasm.

After the contents of their basket was spread out between them they fell into conversation about their respective previous day.

“How is it that you are not yet out, Clarke?” Lexa asked after Clarke had finished recounting the dull affair of yesterday with such vivid detail that the brunette could not help but feel sympathy for the girl.

“Ah. My mother had desired me to be out for some three or four seasons now but my ability to avoid such a fate improved in direct proportion with her desperation to achieve it.” Clarke answered, her eyes rolling in disgust. “I have the most absolute aversion to marriage market in principle.” She declared.

Lexa felt a new surge of affection for her friend upon their shared distaste of the institution. She smiled indulgently upon encountering the blonde’s confused expression after informing her of it. “Does Finn know of your lacking enthusiasm for becoming a Mrs?” Clarke asked.

Lexa laughed merrily at the odd way Clarke phrased her question, the sound bubbling from deep within her throat. “My distaste for the idea of marriage does not mean that I shall be fortunate enough to avoid it altogether, Clarke.” She replied. “Fortuna has been my close associate so far. My uncle is quite the odd fellow, he both insists I marry and at the same time continues to sprout such terror in my suitors’ hearts that they flee before the situation could get serious. Mr. Collins is in fact the longest lasting one so far.” She admitted thoughtfully.

Clarke felt her body chose that moment to attempt some odd bit of acrobatics wherein her stomach felt to have plummeted at the notion that Lexa would be married despite her lack of desire to do so while at the same time an uplifting warmth spread from her midsection upon realizing that if Finn were to marry Lexa she would at least have the captivating brunette within familial bonds. The simultaneous surge of annoyance at Finn was dutifully prescribed as the product of a friendly sympathy for Lexa.

“Do you like him then?” Clarke asked. She herself was not sure should be able to recount why it interested her so but the desire to find out had overwhelmed her quite suddenly.

Lexa took a good moment to peer into her friend’s blue eyes to assess her motivation. For the briefest of moments her mind was rattled by the unsettling notion of Clarke being Mr. or even Mrs. Collins’ agent in obtaining unwillingly parted assurance of his prospects. Clarke, however, stared right back with a reassuring openness. And yet it was not her trustworthy countenance that eased Lexa’s troubled mind but the thoughtful look in the blonde’s eye and the way her fair eyebrows subtly drew together before releasing a moment later. It gave her friend a surprising appearance of vulnerability, almost as if she were the one obliged to offer information of such a private nature not Lexa.

The brunette busied her hands with moving some dirtied food containers from between them, accurately guessing that Clarke would patiently wait for a response, and moved close enough to be able to lay a hand on top of her friend’s. “I trust that you would not relay my answer to anyone, Clarke?” Lexa voiced her concern in the form of a question.

“I would never!” Clarke said earnestly. She was torn between feeling insulted for even being accused of such betrayal and happy at the prospect of being gifted the brunette’s trust. “I have a rather more selfish motivation for asking if I may be honest myself.” She added in a bid for strengthening their bond of mutual trust. “Just a moment ago there appeared a thought in my mind that if you were to marry my cousin I may at least see a great deal more of you than if you were to marry anyone else that might then drag you away to the farthest corners of the isles. I do so much desire to see more of you. If you will permit me, I have grown quite fond of our friendship. I certainly feel that I should be more content to live under the same roof with a friend such as yourself than any husband I may be forced to procure eventually.” She offered a sheepish smile to accompany her words. The hand that Lexa still had draped over hers felt soft and warm to the touch and somehow made their exchange of secrets that much more intimate. A jolt of unease constricted her chest as her words sunk in and her mind reeled at the possibility that her bid to weave the fabric of their friendship tighter might be rejected.

Lexa felt moved by Clarke’s unexpected and outlandish admission. She felt her lips stretch to give way to one of her rather rare toothy grins and as her eyes filled with mirth she squeezed the blonde’s hand. “Oh what a delightfully rebellious idea, Clarke! Only you can think of such things I’m sure.” She said with bubbling laughter. “I am fairly sure I should like that too but that sounds quite unthinkable!”

Clarke’s chest eased and constricted again at such rapid pace that she had a vague fleeting thought of whether she was developing a heart disease. She was elated at the notion that Lexa seemed to enjoy her company as much as she did hers but was at the same time saddened by the brunette’s view that living together appeared to be so unthinkable to her. She had, after all, friends at Girton who in turn had more friends who did exactly that.

Mistaking Clarke’s lack of answer as a silent request to continue, Lexa finally smiled and answered Clarke’s question. “As for my feelings for Mr. Collins… he seems to be a gentle soul which is certainly admirable. And he appears to be extremely respectful. He never once attempted any liberties with me. It was a surprise at first. I have been so accustomed to men attempting to gain special attention or liberties not permitted to others in a bid to secure their position that at first I wasn’t even sure if Mr. Collins had any intentions with me. I dare say I am quite tempted to choose him for the very reason that he seems unlikely to force… those sort of attentions on me. It is almost as if he was disinterested in it whatsoever.”

* * *

Their conversation gradually shifted to less personal topics covering a wide range of their interests. Lexa spoke of her fondness of flowers and all manner of plants, her proficiency with the piano and her love of dancing while Clarke talked of her love of art and painting and gave her an enthusiastic account of life at Girton, the gay society life there*, which, in its modernity, is so unlike the social circles Clarke’s mother wishes to force her into.

“Oh Octavia is what you may wish to think of as a bridge between the two worlds. She is thoroughly modern in her thinking, the first to join in on any lark and mischief we are likely to find ourselves in and yet is absolutely settled on marriage and children. I think there might be someone courting her actually.” Clarke answered one of Lexa’s dozens of questions about her friends. The brunette seemed to be genuinely interested in meeting them which gave hope to Clarke that when her month’s vacation came to end she might persuade Lexa to visit her in return. She was fairly sure that if she worded the letter to her mother right the older woman would be quite delighted to receive the socially fashionable woman in her home.

Lexa shifted her position somewhat to be able to better look at Clarke. While hands were withdrawn as the discussion of intimate secrets drew to a close they remained seated quite close to one another. The brunette turned to fully face Clarke rather than turning only her head in her direction and she pulled both of her legs up to sit cross-legged on the blanket. Being in her own home afforded her the great luxuries of not being forced to wear either gloves or a crinoline beneath her dress which was a source of utmost pleasure to her. Based on Clarke’s descriptions she herself thought quite in a modern way about such things and she much preferred simple dresses that allowed her a considerably freer range of movement.

“Clarke” Lexa said suddenly after a short spell of comfortable silence. “Could I… sit for you? Would you be interested in painting me?” Lexa asked. Mr. Collins’ vividly enthusiastic description of her talents had not quite left Lexa’s mind since the day before and she was keen to have her portrait painted. If Mr. Collins had not exaggerated his cousin’s talents Lexa thought it would be the perfect Christmas gift for her uncle.

Clarke’s eyes rounded in delighted surprise and she answered Lexa’s question with such an eager nodding as Lexa had seldom seen before. The very essence of a toothy grin lit up the blonde’s face as she retrieved a pencil and a small sketchpad with sheets of paper attached to it. “Can I sketch you now? I need to make many sketches of your face if I am to perfectly capture your likeness in paint.” Clarke declared and not waiting for an answer she mirrored Lexa’s cross-legged posture. “You may want to settle into a comfortable position. And I apologize in advance, I am rather dull company when I sketch, it takes up quite a lot of my attention.”

The next half an hour were spent in comfortable silence. Lexa moved to lie on her side with head propped on her elbow, her attention directed upon the smooth surface of the lake. It was not long before her mind succumbed to slumber, her nerves soothed by the still warm rays of the sun and the faint noises of wildlife that mingled with the hypnotic scratching sounds Clarke’s pencil produced against the paper.

Clarke admired the regal features of her friend as she stared at her face with appraising eyes. When she noted that Lexa had fallen asleep she quickly finished her first sketch from memory and started a new one, drawing her general outline first before moving onto the finer details. She found herself staring at the brunette’s lips to capture every crease and curve of her full bottom lip, justifying the deviation from her usual method of starting with the eyes with the fact that she needed sharp pencils to draw so fine a lines and she currently had no means to sharpen her pencils.  _‘She is also asleep and her eyes are closed to this world…’_

The blonde was more than content to fiddle with shading and detailing as her friend peacefully slumbered and she was not surprised that she had awoken before she had declared her sketch completed.

“Have I fallen asleep?” Lexa asked as she sat up.

“Only for a short while. But I am grateful for it has allowed me to study your features. How do you like it?” She asked shyly as she turned her sketchpad in Lexa’s direction to allow the brunette to assess her first attempt.

“My god, Clarke” Lexa gasped as she laid eyes on the drawing. “This is…absolutely stunning.” She said as she stared at the almost perfect likeness in wonder. Her jaw slackened as she continued taking in all of the fine details Clarke managed to capture. The hairs of her eyebrows, her eyelashes the barely visible lines across her lip all seemed as if Clarke had spent minutes studying them. The notion that Clarke has such intimate knowledge of the smallest details of her face overwhelmed Lexa for a moment but as her mind processed it her heart finally settled on a warm and pleased feeling.

“This drawing…Clarke, it is magnificent. But surely you have drawn me far more beautiful than I am.” She said, not quite believing her eyes.

Oh come, now, Lexa” Clarke replied in a teasing tone, not sure what to make of that remark. “It is true that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, but I truly have just drawn what I saw. If it is anything beautiful that is entirely your contribution.” She said with a warm smile, happy to see her friend so pleased with her drawing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * gay society in this context means HAPPY, not gay as in...gay. But I couldn't resist playing with it :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this one kind of got out of hand. Let me know if you feel like it breaks up the flow of the story too much? I'm honestly very curious about your opinions on this one.

“Lexa!” Clarke started. Her attempt to restrain her enthusiasm to a socially acceptable level forced her to lower her tone to barely above a whisper, a mode of communication so inapt to convey her meaning that it left her fair choking on her own words.

She was seated in the drawing room with her family, politely partaking in the daily routine of receiving visitors as was earnestly requested by aunt Helen. Clarke had been easy to oblige for she had secured Lexa’s promise to visit the day before, thus her familial obligations were of no great chagrin to her.

As was customary among the well-bred class of England, visitors filed in and out of drawing rooms in an orchestrated choreography. No social visit was more than half an hour long, thus providing other callers a reasonable estimation of when it was acceptable to arrive. As the socially acceptable period for callers was drawing to a close it was no surprise that the otherwise constant stream of callers dwindled, providing the members of the Collins family to pursue their personal pastimes as they waited for latecomers. Aunt Helen was sat comfortably in an armchair with a novel she had been reading while the men of the house were currently poised in front of the window discussing some matter or another. Clarke herself had not been listening, her attention entirely captivated by the sketch she had been working on when Lexa’s arrival brought them all together again.

“Miss Woods” Finn greeted his intended with a warm smile. “Please, have a seat.” He politely ushered the brunette towards the settee he had occupied for the better part of the day, knowing that it was far more comfortable than any of the other available furniture. It was covered in a dark green plush material, the stuffing made soft with an ample supply of goose feathers and its backrest masterfully crafted to follow the natural inclination of the human body.

“I trust your journey was comfortable?” He asked as he sat himself on one of the straight backed chairs nearest.

“Oh, quite. William could be spared to drive me and you know how apt he is with horses. I could have sworn I was gliding across the sky rather than travelling the dirt roads of the countryside.” Lexa answered amicably. “Mr. and Mrs. Collins, I do apologize for my lateness. My uncle had such an influx of callers today he couldn’t afford to spare me at all.” The brunette said apologetically as she turned her attention to her hosts. Mr. Collins sat regally in his favourite armchair, tactfully positioned near the table where Mrs Collins was sat with her book so as their visitors would not be obliged to keep turning their heads to address them.

“Think nothing of it, Miss Woods” He politely rejected the apology. “Is Sir Gustus faring well?” 

‘Quite. You know my uncle, Mr. Collins. Always has been a bit of a recluse. But he has made such valiant effort this year, for the ball…” 

“Ball..?” Clarke suddenly chimed in, her eyes snapping away from her sketchpad. She had taken the opportunity of having her model so readily available and started a new drawing of her perched on the settee. 

“Have I not mentioned it yet?” Lexa asked with a bewildered frown. “I was fairly sure I have already secured your attendance. Well. There is a ball in a fortnight at my Uncle’s estate. And I do hope that despite my beastly negligence you will come?” Lexa entreated her friend. She could scarce imagine the affair without the golden haired woman there to grant an additional shine to the room.

Clarke hesitated for only a moment. Her lack of being out has so far afforded her the luxury of escaping the ordeal of dancing with a throng of men who would inevitably feel compelled to perform their manly duties to ensure that every woman had been taken on the dance floor at least once. Despite her disinclination to part with said luxury she felt compelled by the earnestness she found in her friend’s forest green eyes. “Certainly.” She relented with a smile. Her silence had not forced Lexa to endure the uncertainty for more than a mere few seconds yet the relief that seemed to radiate from her countenance caught Clarke off guard. Their eyes were locked on one another and Clarke felt an inexplicable tension build within her chest, as words she had yet to think of jostled to spill from her lips. She felt compelled to say more and diffuse the tension which felt far too intimate to be exposed to the curious eyes of their present company.  
“I have made quite a few more sketches of you” She said after only a few seconds of the tense silence that she felt to have stretched far longer. “Would you care to see?” 

“A few!” Finn’s merry voice penetrated the very air that had thickened to surround them in their own safe haven. Clarke felt it such an unexpected intrusion that her spine went rigid with shock for a moment before she willed her body to relax. “Clarke has done nothing else in the last two days.” Finn said. “And she is mighty protective of them too. She has been quite beastly and would not allow me to own a single one.” He complained in mock-annoyance. 

“Do not be obtuse, Finn. You have already wrangled a promise out of me. I shall gift to you any one that you like after I have finished her portrait.” Clarke chided her cousin good-naturedly. His enthusiasm for her art flattered her immensely, a truth anyone would have been hard pressed to press her to admit.

Lexa listened to the amicable quarrel between the cousins with interest. It had been over a week since she had been acquainted with Clarke and she had grown accustomed to the blonde woman’s queer antics but Mr. Collins was an entirely different matter altogether. He was always so warm and polite in her company, never obtrusive, never assuming. On occasion it drove Lexa to fury for the man seemed to have no salt about his personality… and yet that very statement appeared to be contested whenever he was in Clarke’s presence. While even now he maintained the composure of the ever impeccably perfect gentleman there was a glow in his eyes, a newfound sort of edge to his person that he kept well hidden when his cousin was not there to tease it out of him with her very presence. 

“I do not blame you, Mr. Collins, for your ardent desire to own my likeness on paper. Clarke is quite talented. And I would of course be happy to see your sketches. When do you think you shall be ready to start painting me?” She inquired.

“Oh quite soon I imagine. Perhaps as early as tomorrow if the weather permits.” Clarke offered, her eyes shining with excitement at the prospect of capturing her friend’s beauty on canvas.

* * *

The morrow was generous to Clarke’s endeavour. She gasped at the sheer beauty of the morning light as it enveloped everything in a glorious light in the room her uncle had provided as a studio. The high windows allowed ample light to penetrate the room and Clarke set about arranging the room trying her easel in various locations.   
Excitement propelled her out of bed the moment her eyes opened and she had not even bothered to dress herself. Dressed in naught but her nightgown she moved about the room with determination. Finding the perfect angle without her model being present proved to be more guesswork than anything else and Clarke was quickly growing restless.

“OH!” A sudden squeak drew her attention to entrance of the room where Lexa stood seemingly transfixed. Her left hand had not let go of the handle even as her right sprang to cover her mouth in surprise. Her generously round doe eyes grew comically wide and Clarke had to suppress her laughter at the sight.

“I…uh…Clarke. You. You’re not dressed. I apologize.” Lexa stammered, flustered at the idea of having intruded on the blonde’s privacy. She was ready to back out of the room and return at a more suitable hour when she was stopped by her friend’s voice.

“Nonsense, Lexa. I am in my nightgown. It is not as if I were in my underthings. Besides, I have seen you in yours, remember? It is only fair that you should see me in mine.” Clarke said with a playful smirk. She moved closer to the brunette who stood stock-still in the doorway. When she reached her Clarke took hold of Lexa’s hand that was still gripping the door handle as if she were afraid she would drown without its reassuring sturdiness anchoring her. She pulled the brunette into the room and shut the door behind her. 

“But that was…different. I was in bed, indisposed. And you… you are in your studio! What if you soil it with your paints? What if someone comes in?” Lexa rambled. It made no sense to her at present but she was keenly aware of Clarke’s close proximity to her. Her eyes chanced a glance in Clarke’s direction. The nightgown was a conservative one and covered the blonde’s body from the very base of her neck right down to her ankles and yet Lexa flushed at the sight. It was a form fitting piece that allowed her to see that mother nature had been more generous to Clarke with respect to her bosom than she had with herself.

“Lex, I apologize if I have made you feel uncomfortable.” Clarke apologized, a pang of guilt suddenly gripping her heart at the sight of her friends flushed countenance. Her friends at Girton made no particular fuss about seeing each other in various states of undress, particularly those in pursuit of medical education like herself. She chastised herself for having failed to consider that her friend might be too modest for such easy openness at such an early stage in their friendship.

“I do admit to enjoying tinkering with my paints just after having woken up. I was so excited to start painting you today that I could not be bothered to dress myself properly. But I shall go and change. Please, feel free to inspect my sketches while I do so, I shan’t be long.” Clarke offered with a smile then slipped out of the room to quickly make her way back to her bedroom.

* * *

After some negotiation and much testing of light and angles Clarke and Lexa had come to an agreement about the position Lexa was to remain in. She had more or less reclined on a leather settee in a half-sitting position, her head angled in a way that still allowed Clarke to see both of her eyes but also gave the brunette a very flattering prominence to her jawline. It was one of the compromises they had eventually settled on. 

Clarke, having seen Lexa in various attires, suggested that she wear one of her more elegant dresses with a more generous neckline. She entreated Lexa with flattery, her artist’s eye keen to expose and capture all of Lexa’s charms, and she was quite adamant that the brunette’s collarbones were a worthy subject of art. Yet however flattered Lexa felt at Clarke’s earnest appeal, modesty forced her to decline. The painting was, after all, intended to be a Christmas gift to her uncle and Lexa flushed pink at the notion of gifting him such a revealing painting. It would not only be immodest but also extremely inappropriate. 

“Fine.” Clarke sighed with exasperation. “Be that way then. But if I cannot have your collarbones I must insist on your jawline. It will absolutely make the painting a masterpiece if I can capture your sharp angles.” Clarke said in a tone that implied that she would absolutely not back down this time.

Lexa stared at the blonde for what felt like an eternity before she nodded in consent. She moved her head as requested, moving in slow motion until Clarke instructed her to stop. This was an altogether new side to Clarke that she found…intriguing? Clarke appeared to see her in a way that was entirely invisible to her when she looked at herself in the mirror. The force of her… animation for lack of better word quite frankly captivated Lexa. It was as if Clarke became a whole new person when she donned her artist attire. Gone was the politely teasing young woman who joked lightly and conveyed her meaning with subtle gestures and looks. This Clarke was a whirlwind of determination and demand. Her presence pulsed of an energy that allowed for no doubt that she owned the studio even as her eyes shifted from her to the canvas perched on the easel. Lexa’s thoughts were thus occupied for want of anything to do as Clarke painted when she was suddenly pulled from her musings.

“Lexa.” Clarke repeated the brunette’s name to grab her attention.

“I’m sorry, I was… lost in thought. Yes?” Lexa blinked slowly in order to bring her wandering mind back to the present.

“I was wondering if you would permit me to touch your hair. I would like to get a sense of its texture and the way it falls.” Clarke said, her face hidden behind the canvas. She could hear that her voice was casually nonchalant but she did not trust her countenance. She had not a single notion as to why her own question had such an effect on her. The closest emotion she could identify was an unfamiliar sense of embarrassment as if she were asking for something she ought not to. Yet when she examined her words objectively the very notion was ridiculous. She had helped her friends master their unruly curls in braids nearly every night. 

“Oh, of course.” Lexa consented with ease. She was not even sure why her friend bothered to ask so formally particularly after her previous display of self-confidence. ‘It’s not as if she were a man…’ Lexa thought as she sought to decipher the enigma that was her friend. ‘My friend inside this studio to be exact. I think have her fairly pegged outside of it.’

When Clarke felt confident that her countenance had resumed its accustomed hue she stepped away from her canvas and made her way behind Lexa from where she supposed she could gain the least restricted access to the brunette’s cascade of hair. She lowered herself on one knee as she inspected the partially braided mane of wavy locks flowing down Lexa’s back and shoulders. She raised first one hand to gently stroke the locks, rubbing them between her fingers to get a feel for the texture, knowing that it would help her visualize it in her mind’s eye and then transfer it through her hands to the canvas. 

Her friend’s apparent ease with the situation helped Clarke relax some of the inexplicable tension she felt building inside of her and her exploration grew bolder. “I’m sorry if this tickles.” She warned her friend as she allowed her hand to explore the way her hair fell and shifted, her fingers moving closer to her scalp where she knew most people were likely to be sensitive. 

Lexa was surprised as the sigh that escaped her lips when she felt fingers explore the soft baby hairs along the nape of her neck. Their housemaids, and Annie in particularly, often braided her hair so she thought she had a fair idea of what to expect but Clarke’s hands were infinitely more gentle than she was prepared for. The gentle touch sent a shiver down her spine which in turn made her body tense up. She felt the hand immediately withdraw from her hair which she acknowledged with a pang of disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Lexa, have I made you uncomfortable?” She heard the voice from rather close behind her.

“No.” Was all Lexa could muster at the moment.

“Your shoulders tensed when I touched your neck.” Clarke clarified the reason of her inquiry. “I… assumed that you may be accustomed to other women touching your hair seeing how it is always braided so intricately.” 

“Oh I am quite accustomed, yes. But Annie has rather rough hands, I was merely surprised by the gentleness of your touch.” Lexa found her voice. “I am not in the least uncomfortable. You may resume if you wish.” She said rather eagerly. It was an unfamiliar sensation but not at all unpleasant. A warm sense of pleasure bloomed in the wake of Clarke’s resuming touch but it was discontinued rather abruptly. 

“Your shoulders are quite tense, Lexa. Are you sure you are not in any discomfort? Your muscles should not be put under so much strain. Are you in pain?” Clarke asked, the artist in her giving way to the medical student.

“I am…” Lexa faltered, looking for the right words. “…in some pain. But it is nothing I am not accustomed to. This position I am sitting in often leaves my shoulders tense after I have been reading all day.” She explained why she thought not a whole lot about the familiar ache in her shoulders. It had been there even before Clarke’s gentle touches surprised her. It never really went away if she were honest but it felt like such a trivial matter she never bothered to mention it to anyone.

“Well.” Clarke said in all seriousness. “I dare say that is rather unhealthy, Lexa. I am quite practised in providing relief to such muscle strain. Can I help ease that pain for you?” She inquired without a hint of playfulness.

“Yes, please.” Lexa said immediately. By now she knew the blonde’s ‘Dr. Clarke-voice’ and her suggestions seemed generally sound. Expecting some form of a massage she was not surprised when she felt both of Clarke’s hands rest on her shoulders. She had thought to seek out assistance once or twice but Mrs. Beetons’* quite specifically mentioned that such remedies were better left to professionals so when Clarke offered she happy to accepted. 

When Clarke started gently squeezing the skin and muscles of her shoulders a surprised gasp of pleasure escaped her lips, closely followed by another one which she attempted to stifle. “I’m sorry.”

“No need, Lexa. That is quite the normal reaction.” Clarke reassured the woman. They had been taught not to be surprised when people made the most surprising or even on occasion vulgar sounds. It was the body’s natural reaction to pain relief and they were advised never to make patients feel embarrassment because of it. It was, in fact, a sign that they were employing the learned techniques well.

As the brunette’s muscles yielded to her touch it became easier to mould it and Clarke used her thumbs to apply pressure to the lumpy areas on either side of Lexa’s spine. The involuntary groan that escaped Lexa’s lips left Clarke’s cheeks heated. Her friends and the patients they practised on certainly never made that much noise. She was happy to be concealed outside of the brunette’s line of vision for she felt a twinge of professional embarrassment at having had such an unprofessional reaction to something Lexa could not help. “We are taught that when a patient makes such a noise that is praise of a job well done.” She attempted to encourage both herself and Lexa with her words.

“I concur with your professors, Dr. Clarke.” Lexa replied in a breathy tone. “My shoulders certainly have never felt quite so relieved.” She praised her friend as her voice broke into yet another groan of pleasure when Clarke found a particularly tense spot. Clarke continued her ministrations for another few minutes until she felt that the muscles beneath her fingers were pliable. 

“Are you feeling better?” She asked as she withdrew her hands. Before she could stand she found herself staring into the forest green eyes of her friend who had twisted around on the couch, abandoning her position.

“Yes, Dr. Clarke. Infinitely better. I am quite in your debt.” She said. Her tone was genuinely grateful for the service Clarke had provided but she couldn’t help the playful smirk pulling at her lips either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mrs. Beeton's Book of Houshold Management is basically the book EVERY Victorian household had. And there is a section on absolutely everything. It really is an amazing read.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE Review, I am dying to know what you'll think of this huge project i'm embarking on and I survive on encouragement (and caffeine).


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